


Her Knight, His Queen

by Arlyshawk



Series: Dream of Fire [3]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic
Genre: Cute Ending, Dorks in Love, F/M, Fluff and Mush, Mild Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-16
Updated: 2017-07-16
Packaged: 2018-12-02 18:23:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,904
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11514912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Arlyshawk/pseuds/Arlyshawk
Summary: When his wife becomes officially named "Wrath of the Emperor", Malavai finds that she doesn't want - or wish - for the title but accepts it anyway, even if it means that she has to put those she loves on the line for Sith political gambits. He swore once to never leave her, he doesn't ever plan on doing so.. ever.





	1. Chapter 1

Quinn’s promotion to the title of the Emperor’s Wrath is something that Darth Vowrawn refuses to leave be. He keeps appearing and disappearing out of their apartment on Dromund Kaas like a crimson shade with jewelry jingling in his wake like tinkling bells. Today, however, the apartment is quiet. The only sound are the dull patters of rain on the thick panes of glass and the distant rolls of thunder that are the herald to one of the infamous thunderstorms that hover over the entire planet of Dromund Kaas.

Malavai watches the lavender light flash once, twice, a third time across the ceiling. A peal of thunder is distant enough that it could resemble the sound of an anti-air gun fire, only one round though. He ignores the slight sound of Vette falling off the sofa again because the storms bother her. She would end up crawling onto the foot of Jaesa’s bed by the end of the night.

It’s not night still. Can’t be.

He checks his chronometer on the bedside table. 04:05.

Of course, he wakes up an hour before he’s supposed to. He can barely move back to his previous position due to the fact his wife has taken up a two thirds of the bed. She’s always been able to do that though, even when he used to share her bed on the Fury. She’s smaller than him, yet she can take up more space than he’s ever seen. He shifts, choosing to lay on his side while Quinn’s forehead rests against his shoulder.

Her chestnut hair has outgrown its sharp a-line, becoming enough of a bother to her that she has to tie it up to keep it out of her face. There are smatters of freckles across her skin that have become more pronounced the more she is exposed to the sun, his fingers trace over the ones that lie on her shoulders, imagining that they are constellations.

Malavai remembers when he first met her and the iron like façade that she wore because she was an apprentice to perhaps one of the strongest Sith Lords among its ranks. It had melted, however, in the few short minutes that he met her after Vette had come bouncing up and hugged Quinn so hard that he swore he heard her back pop. Quinn had laughed, which spooked him because he had never heard a Sith laugh out of sheer mirth rather than out of wickedness. She isn’t of their world, rather she walks a different path that is three steps out of line of what is expected of her. He knows it - he knew it - her unorthodoxy.

He gets tired of laying around eventually, his mind is too awake now, it’s running numbers and various other topics to the point that its jumbled together. He makes to rise, but stops immediately, hindered by a hand clutching his wrist. His wife’s dark honey colored eyes are barely cracked open, hazy from sleep.

She fixes her eyes on him, “Don’t leave..”

He takes her hand and kisses her palm, relishing in the way her delicate fingers curl around his face. It’s a soft touch, barely there, but it makes his heart swell. Malavai lifts his eyes to her face and sees the way she smiles at him. She has a smile that could light his world, soft, subtle, and kind like spring sunshine. It’s a smile for him, alone, and no one else. Perhaps it’s greedy of him to presume that he would get jealous if she ever gave another man such a smile.

Another kiss to her palm as she traces his cheekbone, but he whispers, “I promise I’ll be back, my darling. I need to check on things outside.”

Quinn groans, mildly pouting, “Malavai..”

He suddenly feels like leaving her would be a sin. Damn her, she probably knows this too. Taking her hand, he squeezes it and then folds another quilt over her before he changes. When he goes padding out into the main hall, he finds Vette on a sofa, curled up in a cocoon of blankets and sipping something that curls steam around her face. She sips it and flips through whatever she’s looking at on her datapad. A floorboard creaks and her attention snaps up.

“Morning!” Vette chirps, smiling brightly in his direction. “What’re you doing up so early?”

He checks the security cameras that Pierce had put up around Quinn’s apartment to keep away thieves or.. whoever would go climbing a building. His response comes out hoarse, “I should be asking you that.”

“Thunderstorm.”

“I figured as much.”

Vette takes another sip from the mug she has, “How did you grow up here? Thunderstorms terrified me as a kid.”

“I was scared for a few years, but I outgrew it. Eventually, one gets used to it, just like the humidity and rain.”

“Yeah, still not liking the whole.. muggy feeling,” She’s quiet for a few more moments. “Oh! Mal, these came for all of us this morning!”

He turns his gaze to her, “What did?”

“These!” She gestures to what appears to be a small stack of invitations with Vowrawn’s near illegible scrawling on the envelopes. He goes over to them and flips through them, all of them with their names with Quinn’s reading,  _The Lady Wrath._ Vette looks up at him, “What are they?”

“Invitations.”

“To Quinn’s celebratory thing?”

“Precisely.”

Vette’s smile is all sunshine and glee, “Yay! I knew they’d come eventually!”

“I’ll tell the others when they wake up, but for now keep quiet about it, Vette.”

She winks at him, “Yes, sir.”

* * *

Quinn wears their wedding band that night.

It’s been a long time since he’s seen it on her hand, seeing as she wore it around her neck for the sake of never losing it. She had it polished as well, the gold seemingly.. brighter than it ever been and the garnet looks more like a crimson eye upon her hand. It had been his mother’s and his grandmother’s before he gave it to Quinn. A gift from his mother, who is vastly different from his beautiful wife.

She approaches him in Vowrawn’s estate with Pierce and Jaesa behind her. She wears a gown of black velvet with simple golden filigree that resembles snowflakes. It all ripples like black water around her slight form. Quinn holds his gaze across the hall. She offers him the smile that he adores so much, the one that’s his. Stars, he doesn’t think himself lucky very much anymore, but he’s lucky in love, there’s no doubt about that.

When she reaches him, he offers her his hand and she slips a cold hand onto his gloved one. The hall doesn’t seem claustrophobic now, not with her beaming up at him.

“ _Major,_ ” Quinn says, smirking.

“My Lady Wrath,” Malavai answers, her title feeling.. odd in his mouth, but strangely suiting her in a way he isn’t able to pin down. “May we?”

Quinn dips her head to him and slips her hand onto his arm, keeping pace with him as they make their way down the stairs behind Pierce and Jaesa. He feels Quinn’s power shrink until it’s between them, suddenly tingling like lightning across his skin. She’s uneasy, he knows it by the way that she digs her nails into his jacket, and he doesn’t blame her.

One glance around the room, he knows Vowrawn has put them immediately into a pool of unadulterated power. He spies Moffs and Sith Lords - some he knows the names of, the others are lost on him - with the occasional low ranking officer. Grand Moff Regus stands beside who appears to the Lady Morgyn. It shocks him to see the pair, namely the Grand Moff, who must’ve jumped all the way from the Illum front to this event. But Lady Morgyn? He only knows her because Quinn has dealt with her, and he remembers her cold, emerald eyes and ink-black. But the way that the Grand Moff speaks to her, he can only gather that the woman is intriguing to several high ranking officials.. to put it as delicately as he could.  

“Are you all right?” Malavai whispers to her when her fingers begin to shake. Her honey eyes dart up and then back to the crowd. Her shoulders slouch forward before she rights herself.

“Not really,” Her reply is quick and hushed. “I could’ve gone without the copious amounts of people.”

“Everything will be all right, my darling.”

“As long as I have you, nothing could ever go wrong, Malavai,” He smiles over at her and she returns it, flushing a pretty shade of pink and ducking her head. It’s such a pure, girlish maneuver but he loves it. They find a not so crowded spot that overlooks the swath of people that mingle beyond them. She twins their fingers together, “Hard to believe all of these people came when Vowrawn called. For me.”

“I doubt all them know you, but the prospect of gaining favor with the Emperor’s Wrath is reason enough to come,” He admits as he watches the Grand Moff with Lady Kallig weave through people out of the corner of his eye.

“Empire’s Wrath, Malavai.”

He blinks rather owlishly at that, “Empire’s? You serve the Emperor.”

“Forgive my patriotism, but the Emperor rubs me the wrong way. I can’t trust him, not with my life, yours, or anyone else’s I love. I just.. can’t,” Quinn’s voice is hollow and grave. “I would never say it to anyone else but you. I can’t let them know.”

“I understand.”

She smiles at him again, this time sadder and full of relief, “The stars truly have blessed me with you.”

“You’re the one who changed my life, Quinn. If you hadn’t come to Balmorra, I would be still stuck there,” He kisses her knuckles. “So I should be the only saying that to you.”

“A fine point, Mal.”

His pet name makes a smile pull softly at his mouth before their quiet happiness dies at the sight of Vowrawn descending from a grand staircase and Jaesa appearing from the slough of people, her violet dress rippling like wings furling in flight. Jaesa holds one section of her dress in one hand to run to them, a smile blooming on her face.

“Ready?” Jaesa asks in earnest.

Quinn nods, “Apprentices first.”

“I’ve never heard that phrase.”

Quinn walks beside her, but not before giving him one last loving glance over her shoulder, “That’s because I just invented it - walk.”

Malavai watches them walk, his two favorite women in all of the galaxy, keeping stride with each other in a flurry of violet and onyx skirts that waver as they walk. Jaesa is more or less his daughter now, something that he hadn’t intended to adopt but rather the title came all at once when he found Jaesa crying in her room after her parents were on Dromund Kaas. Comforting people hadn’t been one of his strong suits, but he had somehow calmed her enough to where her hysteria had faded that day and she clutched onto his jacket until her knuckles were white.

A glass being tapped garners his attention. Darth Vowrawn grins and gestures to Quinn and Jaesa, who take up position at his side. Instantly, he sees the tension in his wife’s shoulders and the fact that he knows that she wants to fold her hands behind her back in parade rest like she does in front of crowds.

“My dearest guests - tonight, we celebrate the coming of a new Wrath, an occurrence that I haven’t witnessed since I was but a young apprentice. ” Vowrawn’s voice reaches the vaulted ceilings with perfect clarity. The pureblood toasts to Quinn and Jaesa, “A toast, my friends, to the woman who I consider my closest ally and friend! To our Lady Wrath and her apprentice!”

There’s a rather loud cheer that follows in the wake of his words. The happiness he feels over this occasion is cut short by a cold hand being pressed against his hand, skin prickling at the sheer, nauseating force of another Sith lord - a woman. She smiles up at him with a smile that’s unkind and wicked, like the ice of Illum.

“My dear Major Quinn, what brings you to such an event?” Lady Kallig enquires, her voice like bitter steel. She makes his nerves fray, which he hasn’t felt since being in the presence of Darth Baras for the final time. He’s not Force Sensitive, but ever since Quinn, he’s become more attune to the way that the Force ebbs and flows across people.

“Good evening, my lord,” Malavai replies, bowing before her. “Why have you sought me out, my lady?”

Her eyes are predatory, “I have sought you out because I wish to ask you to walk with me.”

“And I would have to decline that offer, my lady. I’m waiting for someone.”

The frown that pulls at her pretty face gives her an expression of sour milk, “Oh come now, you fool, walk with me. I’m sure whoever is looking for you could wait.”

Is he not coming across strong enough? As his mother would have put it - what part of no, don’t you understand? He folds his hands behind his back, minding himself as to not come across as frustrated at this predicament. 

She tucks a long strand of her coal black hair behind her ear, revealing dark magenta jewels that swing as she moves her head. Her hand slides up his arm and across him, “Humor me, Major.”

_No._

He clicks the button to provide a false alarm for his holocom on his wrist that lies on his watch. She physically jumps at the sudden chirping, does eye blinking rapidly.

“Forgive me, my lady, but I must attend to the Lady Wrath and her apprentice,” Malavai finishes and ducks away before she can sink her claws into him anymore than she all ready has. He climbs the stairwell as Quinn and Jaesa are descending and nearly runs into both of them. Quinn’s hands thankfully stop him short. He looks down at her, tension flowing away in an instant, but her eyes are frantically searching his face for something that he can’t place at this moment. Possibly his fear?

“Someone got lonely,” Jaesa teases, hiding her smile behind her hand. He doesn’t reprimand her for it. No point.

“Malavai, what’s the matter?” Quinn’s voice is soft and assuring, however the concern on her face betrays her.  

“I’ve haven’t seen you this riled since Korriban…”

“She..Morgyn..”

His wife’s face morphs from concern to poison. Her hands fall from his chest and plant on her hips, “What did she do now?”

“ _Now_?” He echoes, apparently unaware that Lady Morgyn had done  _more._  “She’s been..?”

“Stealing information,” Quinn strides past him, it makes him now worry. He’s seen this stride before, her hands clench at her sides and her strides could easily outpace him. “Remember her with the Grand Moff?”

It’s all he can do to keep up with her, even Jaesa is mildly struggling as Quinn parts the crowd. He jogs up beside her, “I do.”

Quinn stops abruptly in the hallway, “She wasn’t here to be his plus one, I can assure you that right now.”

“Quinn, that’s crazy! No one - not even Lady Morgyn - would steal information!” Jaesa begins, and nearly bumps into him. “Besides, what good is Imperial information to a Sith Lord?”

She gestures to him, namely at his watch. He undoes it and offers it to her, unsure of what exactly what she plans on doing with it. A few moments of figuring it out and inputting commands, she summons a visual of Vette. Their dear Twi'lek huddles down by a crate - or a vent, it looks like she’s in a vent - her entire being a shade of cerulean.

“I take it you have been tracking her?” Quinn enquires, her voice hard like stone.

Vette nods and begins scuttling along. Yes, she’s in a vent.. “Yup! Figured out where said information that she’s been ferrying is going and everything!”

“Excellent, I want to you and Althea to track that information stream and stop it. This entire event was supposed to be confidential.”

The Twi'lek cocks her head, “Wait, aren’t you breaking some sort of secret Sith code then?” Chatter behind her makes her stop, “Actually, scratch that Althea says its fine because you aren’t telling us anything. Never mind!”

“Go follow the stream, please.”

“I expect sweets as in cake or whatnot when I get home.”

Quinn smiles, “Done.”

“Thanks, Mo - I mean, my lord.”

Without another word, Quinn closes the communication and hands him back his watch.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just in... I can't write Nsfw anything ever. Tried... I fail.. Im sorry.

They return home earlier than expected, a full hour if he can guess. Jaesa disappears into her room, complaining about how her feet were hurting from the fact that every Sith Lord wanted to dance with her. Quinn has all ready shed her shoes, making her way to the sofa that overlooks the expanse of Dromund Kaas.  Lightning breaks the sky, illuminating his wife’s form in shades of black and lavender.

Vette hasn’t come home, it worries him. If she doesn’t come home, he’ll look for her. Send Pierce to look as well. He knows full well that Quinn would raze Kaas City to the ground for Vette.

“Malavai..” Quinn’s voice draws him out of his concern thoughts as she’s slipping off her nylons, but she’s paused midway. Her presence rubs against him like a cat, “You looked.. spacey.”

“It’s nothing, my love,” He begins to undo the cufflinks he has before Quinn’s freckled hand stops him. She knows.. They both do, “It’s sweet of you to worry, but knowing Vette she’ll appear in our vents.”

He hands her his cufflinks, “I’d rather she not.”

Quinn’s laugh is soft as she goes padding back to their bedroom, her dress chasing after her feet. She hadn’t been so graceful earlier, but now he sees the way her entire body moves in one fluid motion. It’s the walk of a huntress - toe before heel, body moving like water over stone, ready to pivot in case of an attack - like a lioness. He studies her frequently, but he still he finds ever changing aspects about his wife that dumbfound him. Such terrifying beauty in a stride alone speaks volumes.

“You know, gawking gets you nowhere, Malavai,” He can hear the pleased, slightly seductive smirk that’s no doubt adorning her face.

“You want something.”

She appears in the doorway, crossing her arms over her sternum, “I’m afraid I’m sewn into this bloody abomination, so your help would be appreciated. Unless, I wait until Jaesa’s done undressing..”

“No, none of that,” Malavai doesn’t believe he’s ever moved this quickly to her side in a calm setting. Perhaps on the battlefield when she danced through enemies, somehow a whirlwind without guidance. He follows her, motioning with her hand to shut the door. She lifts her hair up away from the cinch and zipper.

Indeed, whatever seamstress got a hold of his wife had made the dress fit to every dip and curve of her form, but with a bit of persistence, it relents. It slips off of her shoulders and the passing thought of kissing her spine to spook her becomes tempting. He’d be good… For now.

One eye regards him, “Staring.”

He smirks, “Feeling self conscious?”

“Please..” Quinn turns and faces him, scrutinizing him, “Why  _do_  you stare at me like this? I’ve always wondered.”

Her words give him pause, he didn’t truly know  _why_. At least.. not  _anymore_.

“Sit, you’ve been standing enough, darling,” Quinn does as he says, crossing her legs, spine straight, like a queen without a throne. He kneels before her, “Do you believe me when I tell you that you are the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen?”

Her dark eyebrows shoot up into her bangs, “Yes, you’ve yet to lie to me after the.. incident.”  

“But do you believe it?” Her posture shifts, he notes, a tensing of the shoulders. It’s an answer. He runs his hand down her leg, finding a scar from a laser trap that took her by surprise in an SIS facility. The silver lash across the inside of her calf never healed pretty, but it let her keep her leg.

“If you have a point, make it.”  

“My point is…  I saw how you were around other women at the event,” He had remembered how his wife had balked before several Dark Council members - Acina, he remembers quite vividly. She had remained by his side, Marr’s, or Vowrawn’s side for the better part of the night. He shakes his head, “I know you, Quinn, you aren’t someone who cowers.”

There’s a long, frigid silence that follows his words. Quinn pulls the lacy sleeve of her slip back onto her shoulder.

Needing no other incentive, he continues, “I’ve watched you from the day that we met, mostly because at one point, it was my job. Now, I do it to understand you… Which is no easy task. I’m not Sith, I can never claim to know the minute pressure changes that occur, but I can say that I know  _you._ ”

Her eyes are dark, “I tried to hide it.”

“It’s your scars, isn’t it?”

“I have more than my fair share, Malavai,” Her tone is a mixture of iron and quivering softening steel, “I look upon the women of the Dark Council and see no scars. They haven’t fought for the Empire on the battlefield, held dying soldiers, seen fire and ash rain from the sky… None of them wear a war on their skin.”  

“Most don’t.. But most aren’t you,” He runs his thumb across the scar on her leg, dipping his head to kiss the jagged cut.

Quinn doesn’t grace him with a reply, only a long winded sigh. Malavai traces her leg and finds the one from Baras - a long, serrated burn scar that’s still unsightly to her - on her upper thigh, and kisses the line of it. Her whole body tenses.

Her voice is low in her throat, strangely sultry, “ _What_  are you doing?”

“They aren’t a war, my darling.. They’re a story,” He nips at the top of the scar, “I imagine you could tell me every story that comes with these marks.”

Her entire presence shifts from cold to warm around them, plucking at his nerves, alive and burning. Her chuckle is warm, “How long have you been thinking about this?”

_Too long_.

His answer is another kiss to that scar, then another. Her whole body twists into a taut cord as he slips his fingers underneath her slip across the ridges of her hipbones. She sucks in a breath that’s sharp and high. She’s strung too high like a piano cord. He could unwind her right now, if he so wants. It’d be relatively easy.  

Quinn’s hand encloses over his, her legs resting over the tops of his shoulders. He glances up to see her eyes smirking at him. Her skin is warm, like smoldering embers, through his jacket. She clicks her tongue, “Naughty Malavai, playing with my emotions.”

She leans down and brushes her mouth against his, her lips twisting into a wicked grin. And he’s the one toying with emotions.

“Says the one who’s teasing me.”

Her eyes are laughing, “Says the one who started it.”

She moves his hand around to her side and actually kisses him this time, hard and full of all of the fire that he knows burns within her. It’s all lust and fire and the sort of passion that runs so deeply in her heart that it can overtake him. He can taste sweet wine on her tongue and her fingers are in his hair - he’s forgotten what it feels like to have all of her attention, every drop of it, the kind that makes his blood hot. He pushes her slip up, relishing the way her skin feels against his hands.

There are times, like these, when he wonders if she knew how many nights he laid awake with the thought of her seared into far reaches of his mind on the Fury. How many times he had looked upon her and seen her as a queen without a crown, the love of his life.. He dimly can remember how much mental convincing it took to kiss her for the first time because at that point, she had been his lord, his lady, and if she said jump, he asked how high. Of course, he’d kissed her when she came to the bridge again and he listened the soft squeak she made and then following joy that made him smile.

Quinn’s fingers are pulling at his jacket, drawing him back from his thoughts. Her fingers pull at the silver buttons, but he stops her hands before she ruins it. She’s all ready ruined another one doing that…

Pulling back, he looks at her flushing skin and the rosiness to her cheeks. A long breath escapes him.. Her eyes are half lidded, the honey gold of them suddenly burning with the heat that he can feel underneath his hands.  Without a word, he slips off his jacket and sets it off the to the side.

“Malavai, I love you.. ” Quinn whispers hoarsely, a hand pressing over his heart. Her fingers splay across his shirt, “I don’t feel like I deserve you sometimes, but I love you so much.”  

“I love you too,” He says in a heartbeat that he feels in his ears. He smiles at her and she mirrors it, “I’m glad I have you.”

* * *

Quinn finds Vette out in their living room after Malavai leaves her side to find the source of the rather loud thumping that had nearly sent him scrambling off of the bed. Her little Twi'lek curls up in a ball, her knees to her chest, when she nears, dressed in one of a shirt of her husband’s that she’s confiscated and wrapped up in a jade robe.

Vette’s brown eyes flick between her and the floor, “Found where it was going..”

“And?” Quinn sits beside her, folding her hands in her lap. She’s never seen Vette so.. bothered after a run like the one she had just done with Althea. By the long look that she’s given, she can only gather than things didn’t go so well.

“Got shot, Althea almost got eaten by some big monster thingy and we were only saved because Varda sensed us,” Vette half mumbles, plucking at the fibers on the couch. “Lady Kallig would’ve killed us right then and there had V not been there. Between her and her husband, Andronikos, we barely managed to shut down the information that was being ferried out to Wild Space.”

“I’m sorry I did that to you, Vette,” Quinn slides an arm around her friend’s slim shoulders and squeezes her, “If I had known that Jaina would have done that, I would’ve gone myself.”

“It was your party…”

“And you’re practically my daughter,” Quinn gives her a stern look, meaning it wholeheartedly, “I would rather save your life than spend my night practically being tortured by politics.”

That brings a soft, weary smile to Vette’s face, “Thanks, Quinn.”

Before she can answer, Malavai returns and crouches in front of Vette. He gives her a cursory once-over before enquiring, “You aren’t hurt?”

The Twi'lek sighs, “Unless you count my pride.”

“That’s easier to repair than a broken bone.”

“Thanks,  _dad_.”

Malavai rises, gives her a quick glance before striding off out of sight. There is something under his skin.. Though she has a fair guess that its probably from earlier and the fact their fun had been cut short by Vette and whatever followed her home.

Malavai’s voice stops her thoughts, “Vette, I have a present from Vowrawn for you.”

Vette all but falls off the couch and bounds into the kitchen after his voice. She hasn’t seen her this happy since Quinn took her to see her sister. Of course her husband would’ve found a way to convince Vowrawn to send home sweets of some sort, just for Vette. Quinn smiles to herself at the sound of Vette’s profuse amount of praise and the way Malavai leaves her to snacking before he comes to join her on the couch.

“What are you smiling about?” He whispers to her. There’s a smile in his sapphire eyes that she adores so much it hurts.

“You’ll make a good father one day..” Quinn replies, and watches the mild shock that flashes across his face makes her giggle. He opens his mouth to speak, but she puts a finger to his lips, “No, I’m not what you’re thinking.”

“Oh good.”

Swinging her legs across his lap, she reclines back into the sofa cushions and waits for Jaesa and Vette to reappear. Her apprentice appears first, her dark hair in a braid and she’s reading while she walks to a chair, somehow sitting in it in a position that makes Quinn’s back muscles twitch. Next, Vette returns, nibbling on a tiny cake - or maybe that’s what remains of it - while she holds a paper bag with what she can assume are more sweets. This is her family, she figures, the people that matter the most to her in the entire galaxy.


End file.
